


In a Room Set Afire by Ash and Crimson

by lovelydarkanddeep



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Choking, Conflict, Dark, Did I mention porny?, Emperor Kylo Ren, Empress Rey, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Grey Rey, Grey to Dark Kylo, Hot, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kinky, Misuse of the Force, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Renperor, Rough Sex, Sexy, Smut, Smutty, TLJ throne room scene, The Dark Side of the Force, Throne Room Scene, how that scene should have gone, maybe lol, tlj - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelydarkanddeep/pseuds/lovelydarkanddeep
Summary: “Biting the glove off his right hand with his teeth, he lifts a hand to her temple, caressing almost.It is not a touch meant for pleasure, but purpose.He takes her pain, drinks it like some heady, rich wine, a delicacy on his flickering snake’s tongue.”My rendition of how the throne room scene should have gone; I’m sure there’ll be many more to come ;) (haha get my pun? lol)





	In a Room Set Afire by Ash and Crimson

**Author's Note:**

> For best results, read with this song in the background: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzVQkO92wNw&index=120&list=PLVHiJFKgBf8pF21Gb5OsD9EKAmjRJSIOn
> 
> It's so reylo I can't even

Milliseconds before the explosion, Rey’s connection with the Force rears its head with a preternatural knowledge of what is coming.

 

Miniscule hairs raise along her arms. Static electricity fills the air, making her teeth buzz and bones groan.

 

A metallic tang, silver and biting, licks at her mouth, makes it taste like anger and burning things.

 

It is too late.

 

A flash of light, so brilliant it stains the retina of her eyes with starbursts, echoes across the room, the galaxy, and whatever fated thing connects their damaged souls. A cacophonous resonance that is equal parts thunder and lightning - the tumultuous roar of waves on the ocean and the clash of a spitting red blade and its ancient blue twin.

 

She’s thrown backwards in its fury, and she feels her back collide with one of those arching pillars,  _hard_.

 

And then only grey.

 

Grey everywhere. Mist and smoke and shadows and blood. Light and Dark.  _Grey_.

 

Then -

 

Light filtering through smoke, hazy in its diaphanous opulence, thick and choking.

 

Scattered embers, floating by, sparks of flame and heat. Pinpricks of light in the after, like ever-burning stars.

 

Rey first registers pain. She rates it, categorizes it, analyzing.

 

It travels up her back, starting low. Rey guesses a deep, vivid cerise colors where she impacted, sinking deep into the tissue.

 

It hurts, Maker it hurts, but it’s nothing she hasn’t handled before.

 

_She’s had worse._

 

Taking stock of the rest of her body, a habit from days long past spent in the sweltering sun, jagged landscapes, and gritty sand, she is surprised to find no other afflictions awaiting her attention excepting a piercing ringing in her ears.

 

She tries to sit up, but the pushing on her back makes her collapse again in vain. A pained cry leaves her ash-dusted lips, angry tears filling her burning eyes.

 

She takes a deep breath, about to roll onto her side, when her ears detect something amongst the continuous ringing.

 

The sound of shifting in rubble, a low, but nevertheless audible groan.

 

She feels when he comes to completely, the tether between them snapping to attention, awakening.

 

Much to her displeasure, she senses him do a bodily check of himself, just like she does.

 

_Just like she does._

  
She wonders what other nasty habits they have, both detests and relishes the very thought that this man shared something ( _many things?_ ) in common with her.

 

There’s nothing wrong with him - she already knows this and suspects he does too. He has to also know what exactly she is feeling at this very moment, the pain she harbours in her rough, scavenger’s body.

 

She cannot make out much, her eyes burning with smoke, but she does see the telltale black form of him from across the room.

 

He stands quicker than expected, scanning the wreckage around him.

 

For his lightsaber, Rey thinks, but he ignores the black hilted weapon on the ground, the silver chrome pieces of the one they just destroyed near to it.

 

Over the bond, she feels panic, deep and gripping, choking him with a band-iron fist.

 

He’s looking for her, she realizes.

 

Wondering why he doesn’t just tug on their bond, she realizes: all he can feel is her pain, encompassing, nothing more.

 

_I’m here._

 

She’s not sure why she says it, but she tugs at the starlit bond like it is a thread between them, pulling him towards her.

 

His eyes do the rest of the work, moving to her side with swift but sure steps.

 

Initially, she was sure he would strike her down himself, or leave her to the ruin of the throne room.

 

But now she knows he would _never_.

 

She does not like the thought.

 

Then he’s next to her, wiping her face free of soot, leather gloves cool against her kyberfire-tinged cheeks.

 

 _You’re burning_ , he tells her, and she is unsure as to his meaning.

 

 _So are you_ , she replies anyways.

 

Biting the glove off his right hand with his teeth, he lifts a hand to her temple, caressing almost.

 

It is not a touch meant for pleasure, but purpose.

 

He takes her pain, drinks it like some heady, rich wine, a delicacy on his flickering snake’s tongue.

 

It changes within him, like he is some type of living power converter. Makes him stronger, gives him strength instead of weakening.

 

Her back no longer hurts, and so she sits up on her elbows, the world swimming for a moment as she adjusts.

 

Glancing upwards at where he is still crouched above her, she swallows with a dry throat.

 

The lack of pain leaves Rey unsure.

 

Her pain had kept her grounded, sure of something. Now her emotions run rampant.

 

 _Through pain I gain strength,_ Rey thinks to him. _Isn’t that what your stupid code says?_

 

A small flicker on his lips, perhaps amusement, perhaps chastisement.

 

 _Passion_ , comes his voice in her head. _And that is the way of the Sith, of which I am not apart of. That is what I want to leave behind._

 

They hold each other’s gazes openly, dark, pupils blown.

 

Perhaps it is the oxygen-depleted air, the smoky haze, the adrenaline in the both of them.

 

Perhaps it is something else.

 

Either way, she meets him halfway as their mouths slot over one another.

 

There is none of the gentle caresses of the force bond, none of the hesitance, the bated breath.

 

Instead, it’s tongues and teeth and  _heat._

 

Hair pulling, nails scraping, ripping clothes down the middle until they hang by mere threads to their flushed bodies.

 

It’s a battle, not a kiss, yet still the same fight they always find themselves resigned to.

 

Soon enough, he is nudging her slick thighs apart with a knee, pinning her to the ground with his bare right hand around her neck.

 

He leans down to rip another kiss from her raw lips, and she pulls him down so that he is hovering just above her.

 

He is all she can see, consuming her sight, expansive skin and silvery-pink scars and that red sinner’s mouth.

 

His gloved left hand trails through her viscid heat, finds her more than ready for him.

 

His eyes are dark, smug, reeking of triumph.

 

“Join me,” he breathes into her skin, the words red-hot and deliciously soft.

 

“N-”

 

The breath leaves both their lungs as he slides into her.

 

The bond flares, and they experience the other in ways entirely new. She can feel her slick heat wrapped around him, just as he can feel himself pulsing inside of her.

 

“Move,” Rey growls, _commands_ , and he squeezes her neck warningly in response, his hips snapping into her simultaneously.

 

The feeling, doubled by their bond, has Rey almost crying out. She bites down hard on her swollen lower lip instead, containing it.

 

Kylo watches, staring down at her with such a dark, predatory intensity that she finds herself growing slick all over again.

 

“Join me,” he repeats, teeth gritted and lips pulled back into a fierce sneer.

 

“No,” Rey resists, opening her legs farther to his onslaught, wrapping them around his lower waist.

 

“Leave it behind,” he snarls into her ear, hitting a particular spot that has Rey arching against him, keening.

 

Her protests are weaker now, stilted rejections on single, short breaths.

 

“Leave it!”

 

“I won’t,” Rey groans out, fingernails digging into his biceps, breaking skin.

 

“None of it matters - it doesn’t matter,” he growls around thrusts, one hand still collaring her, the other supporting her back.

 

His leather gloves slide over where Rey knows she must be bruised from her collision with the pillar, but she hardly cares. She knows she will have many more bruises once the night is over.

 

“Say it,” he hisses in her ear, teeth gritted, hips snapping again and again _and again_.

 

She does not respond this time, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he hits that singular place inside that has her tensing and releasing a single wet sob of pleasure.

 

“Rey,” he seethes, seeking an answer, a concession of her pride and being.

 

Suddenly, the force is all around them, crystal clear and thrumming.

 

He is drawing on it, having it caress places on her, _in her_ , that has her sobbing louder.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she finally wails, one hand pulling viciously at his obsidian locks as if to cause him pain for making her agree, her legs sliding up and down his sweat-slicked back as he thrusts into her over and over.

 

“Again.”

 

“It-,” she chokes on a gasp. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Her eyes squeeze shut once more, feeling a molten burn in her belly that hastens with each passing moment.

 

The bond crescendos, builds until they are both teetering on the edge of falling, of being consumed.

 

“Let go,” Kylo commands, growls darkly. His words an exact mirror of his desperate yells earlier.

 

And, this time, she does.

 

The explosion that lights them both is larger than that of the lightsaber’s, but is inside the cradle of their heads, their very souls. Both are blinded by the sheer intensity.

 

They are left panting and breathless, but finally whole through the embrace of the force **in a room set afire by ash and crimson.**

**Author's Note:**

> I need a cold shower, some ice cubes, and TLJ released on Blu-Rey please (haha I made another pun lol)
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS -> You pay me in comments = I write more


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